Burning Inside
by Rael Ellan
Summary: After witnessing a seemingly intimate moment between Tseng and Rufus, Reno is strangely upset. But with a sinister plot surrounding the President, Reno must act first think later, with strange consequences for all involved...
1. Discovery

A.N. I found this sitting on my hard drive and thought I may as well post it. Hope you enjoy! R & R please, I'd love to know what you think of it, and whether or not I should try and continue…

_His throat was on fire. It burned as they yanked his head back by the hair and forced the dark liquid down it. He coughed and choked, but they wouldn't let him spit it out. He felt it slide down inside him, wet and slimy and burning. Then they left him wearing identical grins. _

_He wanted to die._

* * *

><p>Reno found himself wandering, directionless, around Healin Lodge. His hands were in his pockets and his suit was covered in dust. He had just returned from his latest mission – only a reconnaissance, nothing important. He should have been resting, but for some reason he felt unbearably restless.<p>

For nearly two hours he had lain there, in the dark comfort of his room, staring at the blank ceiling, the colourless walls, the monotone door. Sleep evaded him. His system was on alert, probably still coming down from the adrenalin of the chase through Midgar, as his subject had attempted to evade him. Yes, that was all it was.

So he had pulled his uniform back on and gone for a walk, hoping the familiar action would calm his nerves.

It had been raining. Large, fat drops fell from the green leaves that surrounded the Lodge and disappeared into the ground.

The world always seemed that much more vibrant after rain. Being born in the slums, Reno hadn't seen real rain until his induction into the Turks. He had come to love the strange, temperamental weather. It was one of the many things that singled him out from the others, he thought miserably.

Elena and Tseng hated the rain. It was cold and damp and made their clothes stick to them. Rude didn't really care about it, so long as it didn't completely cloud his shades. But Rufus, oh Rufus.

When they had to go out in the rain, Rufus would complain and whine about the feel of his sodden clothes. He would complain about his hair and the way it flattened uncomfortably against his skull. He would complain about the way it coloured his white clothes. At least, he did when Reno was on guard duty. Only then. Those tirades were not even shared with Tseng. Reno snickered as he thought of Rufus whining like a five-year-old to the cold, untouchable director.

He stopped laughing as he wandered past Rufus' rooms, grinning at the two guards who stood there in as unnerving a fashion as he could muster. Their identical, wide-eyed and shocked stare had him half running around the corner, crouching beneath a window and desperately trying to stifle his sniggers. Lore and Lare they were called. They were new enough that they hadn't quite become acclimatised to his twisted sense of humour and teasing them was one of his favourite past times, when not on duty.

Just as his mirth began to subside, he heard a muffled cry of anger. Recognising Tseng's tone from inside the room, he stiffened, ready to spring to action at a word from his superior. But no order came. Instead, Tseng's tone softened almost instantly and lowered so that Reno could barely hear him.

"If that is your only concern, I can assure you that we will keep a close watch and ensure that –"

"You are not _listening_ Tseng!"

Reno jumped as Rufus' angry voice sliced through the air. There was a soft crash from inside, as his fist collided with the table.

"I _am _listening, sir. But I fail to see what else can be done to assuage you."

Tseng was using the resigned tone of a man well accustomed to dealing with the sometimes changeable temperaments of the Shinra family.

There was a soft, breathy sound, which Reno took as Rufus' sigh of apology.

"I apologise, Tseng. Yes, that is a logical solution. Of course."

His voice was slightly muffled, as though hidden in his hands.

His curiosity now peaked, Reno slowly began to lift himself from the crouch, glancing through the window. The sight made him freeze.

Rufus was sitting at the table, surrounded by mounds of disturbed paperwork. Documents had floated to the floor around his feet, giving the distinct impression of a snowstorm. Head in his hands, Rufus fingers were buried in his unusually disordered hair. He was breathing deeply, trying to bring order to the chaos of his temperament.

Now, considering the recent development and cure of his geostigma, this was not an unusual position for Rufus. It was Tseng that made him freeze.

The Director was standing almost directly behind the President, one hand resting comfortingly on the younger man's shoulder. His face was as rigidly set as always, but there was a softness to his features that betrayed his relaxed state. Reno had never before seen him look like that. If he didn't know better, he might even say that Tseng looked… happy?

As he watched, Rufus sighed and glanced back at the older man, smiling gently in thanks. They paused there for a moment: speaking, discussing with only their eyes.

Reno felt like an intruder as he watched the intimate scene. A scene, he thought dismally, that would never be his.

He felt a stab of pain somewhere in his chest and sank to the ground beneath the window, pointedly ignoring the feeling of betrayal that thrilled through him. He had no right to feel it, after all. _None at all_, he reminded himself.

He liked to think of himself as Rufus' confidant. Whenever the man wanted to complain about this businessman or that 'infernal, flirtatious slut!', Rufus spoke to Reno. The red-head had never really considered that he might confide in others. He had certainly never seen the President do so before and he had never heard any of his co-workers discuss it. But then, _he_ never discussed it either. It felt as though there was an unwritten law, that whenever Rufus whined and complained about his bad luck, his _good_ luck, Reno never spoke of it to anyone else. He wondered if the other man had a similar arrangement with each of his Turks and the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach intensified. Again, he ignored it.

From inside the room, he heard the scraping sound of a chair moving, presumably as Rufus stood up.

Unwilling to be caught in his current position, the redhead picked himself up and slunk away, back to his small room on the far side of the building. He leapt on the bed without bothering to get under the covers or even to get undressed.

Lying on his back, his gaze wandered automatically to the ceiling, which greeted him coldly. The hollow pit in his belly had subsided to a dull persistent ache.

Frowning at the ceiling, he turned onto his side and tried to forget what he had seen. Closing his eyes, he willed sleep to come and to his relief, he sank quietly into oblivion.


	2. Boredom

**A.N. OK so the second chapter is up! I'm not sure this one went exactly the way I thought it would, but ah well. It's a means to an end. In the next chapter, I'm going to start introducing more of the real plot…**

**Thanks to PhinMaginONLY, LoveAkito and Renix05 for the reviews!**

_First he's on fire, then he's frozen. The world is swimming before his dazed eyes and his shoulder throbs. He can't feel his legs anymore, after sitting there for so long. However long it was. He shivers. _

_The darkness shifts behind him, and the world is on fire again._

* * *

><p>Reno was <em>bored<em>.

He had given his report as expected, careful not to let the ever-watchful Director realise that he had been beneath the window last night. He had felt nervous as he stepped into the office, something that was quelled almost immediately by the scornful look in Tseng's eyes as he waved the written report at his subordinate.

"Reno, what _exactly_ is this supposed to be?"

"A report, sir."

The expected reply; their usual game.

"Reports are supposed to be written in a way that means they can be read by other people, Reno. _This_," he brandished the paper again, "is illegible."

But, as usual, Tseng had shaken his head and dismissed him with a resigned sigh and a pained expression, and Reno had wandered out of the office to sit behind his own desk.

Rufus never complains about my handwriting. I wonder if they ever argue about that. Maybe its' Rufus who puts him on my case… Reno grinned at the direction of his own thoughts. Who the hell am I kidding? Rufus couldn't care less if I wrote the things in ketchup on the back of a napkin so long as I didn't mess up the job!

On the opposite side of the room, Rude was studiously filling out sheet after sheet of his mission report. The perfect lines seemed to flow seamlessly from the tip of his pen. Reno glared at the top of the shiny baldhead, and leant back on his chair, waiting for the bigger man to notice the stare.

The silence continued, broken only by the incessant scratch of Rude's pen moving across the paper. Disappointed with the lack of response, the redhead started searching the room for something else to do. He noticed that there was a small pile of paper in a tray marked 'IN' on the corner of his desk and picked up the foremost sheet.

The headline of a newspaper had been stuck onto the top of the sheet, reading: 'Shinra's New Direction.' Underneath this, in Elena's large print handwriting, were the words, 'Facing away from you, Reno.'

Reno grinned and slipped the paper into the draw in his desk, adding to the growing pile of assorted objects that compiled his mini-war with Elena. Initially, it had genuinely been about trying to irritate and even undermine one another, but it had long since become a contest of wit. Reno wouldn't admit it, but he was touched that the blonde woman had kept up with it. He always kept the little 'hate' notes she sent him, purely on the basis of remembering what his reason was for playing pranks on her, of course.

Picking up the next sheet, he saw it was another of Tseng's reassignment sheets. Tseng liked to rearrange their schedules on a regular basis, so that there would always be a guard with the President, despite their missions. Recently, the Director had taken to changing the shifts every two weeks.

Completely paranoid, he thought.

He felt his mouth attempt to curl into an affable grin and stifled it. He was in no mood to think affectionately of his boss.

Well aware of the fact that Tseng would most likely have altered the roster yet again by the end of the day, Reno scrunched the paper into a ball. Upending his empty mug of coffee, he tried to balance the ball on its base. It rolled off. Frowning, he tried again. It rolled off.

There was a soft sound across the room, as though someone was trying not to laugh. Reno glanced up at his partner and saw that the bigger man was staring pointedly down at the page in front of him. His lips had curled up into a smile, and one hand was resting on his forehead. His broad shoulders were twitching ever so slightly.

A slow smile spread across Reno's fox face and, taking careful aim, he threw the ball of paper at Rude with a shocking accuracy. It collided with the other man's bald skull and bounced onto the desk.

There was a momentary pause, as though everything had frozen. Rude slowly leant back in his chair, laying the pen carefully down by his report. He adjusted it, scrupulously, so that both objects were in exact line with his desk. Then, he squared his shoulders, as though preparing to fight. Across the room, he could see Reno's lithe form tense, ready to spring away at a moments notice. Rude didn't give him the chance.

Without lifting the ball, he hit it back towards his partner with the palm of his broad hand. Reno pushed his chair back, underestimated the path of the projectile, and it collided neatly with his ear.

A brief, but intense, paper fight ensued. Reno added several more balls to the mix and soon there were countless paper missiles flying through the air. It was a fierce, frantic exchange that created chaos throughout the room. Round paper snowballs lay across their desks, covered the floor, and had even managed to find lodging on the leaves of Elena's potted plant.

Eventually, however, the silent game of warfare was stopped by the act of a single sheet of paper. Glancing up and seeing it looming suddenly huge before his face, Reno made a wild bat at it and sent it spinning away from their field of play. It sailed effortlessly through the air, over Elena's desk, and through the half open door of Tseng's office at the end of the room.

The competitors paused, staring at the door.

Nothing happened.

Reno laughed nervously and gave his partner a thumbs up.

"5 gil says he don't even notice it, yo."

Rude grinned, pushing his glasses back into place. They had slipped down it seemed, sometime after the first few shots. He pretended to think for a moment, as though about to bet his life savings, but was saved from having to answer by the interruption of another voice.

"Reno. I'd like to see you in my office."

Tseng's disembodied command floated through the office from the small speaker on Reno's desk. He flexed his fingers, giving it a slightly suspicious look.

"Oh come on. It's just a bit of paper. How mad can he get over it?"

Rude grunted in reply and settled himself back behind his desk.

"He sounds quite calm."

Reno shuddered.

"Yeah. That's the part I'm worried about." He glanced at the other man sharply. "Hey, I wasn't supposed to be doin' anythin' this morning, was I?"

Rude frowned.

"Not that I can think of. Why?"

"Reno, now!"

This time, Tseng's voice came from the half open door.

Rude gestured with his pen.

"If he kills you, can I have your car?"

Already slinking over towards the Director's office, Reno paused to turn and scowl at his partner. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and waved them so they clanged together noisily.

"Not a chance in hell, buddy."

"Reno!"

Slipping the keys back into his pocket, the redhead kicked a few paper bullets out of his way as he passed, and stepped into the office.


	3. Assignment

**A.N. Well, third chapter. **** Please feel free to leave a review if you want!**

_The world had started spinning again. Around and around went the ceiling. Around and around went the little wall light. Around and around and around… He closed his eyes and tried not to be sick. _

_The laughter was back. He so wanted to choke the life from that laugh. How dare it crow at him? _

_He struggled against the restraints and felt one loosen. _Yes…

_The muffled voices were back. They sounded frantic. _Yes…

_A sharp pain appeared in his neck, and darkness crept into the corners of his vision, as the sedative began to take effect._

* * *

><p>Reno slipped into Tseng's office, trying to look as apologetic as possible.<p>

The Director of the Turks was sitting motionless behind his desk; pen still nestled in one hand. A document was lying in front of him, covered with what appeared to be annotations in Tseng's neat, print handwriting. The writing itself was, however, completely illegible. A large coffee stain was spreading rapidly across the page, swallowing the words and blurring them together.

Beside the sheet of ruined paper stood a mug, coffee still running down its side and over the handle. A ball of paper was perched innocently inside.

"Ah, sorry boss man. Keep sayin' that we need coffee that doesn't stick to ink, yo."

Reno laughed half heartedly and ran a hand through his hair, bringing it into sharper spikes than usual.

Tseng said nothing. He blinked, slowly. One blink, two blinks, three…

Reno shifted uncomfortably under the unfathomable gaze. The other man's face remained carefully neutral, but Reno could see the slight movement of his thumb as it brushed against the smooth casing of the pen.

"You… want some more coffee, boss?"

Tseng sighed and shook his head, glancing away from his subordinate in the process and allowing the man to take what he hoped was an unnoticed breath of relief.

"Tell me," the director murmured, "do you intend to cause as much damage as you do, or is it merely in your nature to do so?"

Reno looked down at the ruined document. He didn't think it was the best time to try and talk his way out of the situation. Tseng was doing _that thing_ where he started to run his fingers over the table in front of him. Arguing now would only get him a fortnight of sentry duty.

Rising slowly from the chair, Tseng looked him up and down, frowning.

"Would it be possible, Reno, for you to wear your suit correctly, just once?" The dark haired man walked over to a stack of drawers and opened one, rooting through folders and files. He pulled one out and flicked through it, gently, so as not to disturb the pages inside too much.

Nodding his approval, Tseng slammed the draw shut and turned to face his subordinate, holding out the file.

"Since you are incapable of keeping yourself occupied with _useful_ work," he shot Reno a meaningful glance that slid down to the remains of his coffee, "you can start your next assignment early."

Reno opened the folder in his hands.

"Erik… Dorrigan?" He looked up questioningly. "Ain't ever heard of him."

Tseng nodded again.

"Unlikely you would have. He lives in the slums."

Reno began to leaf through the sheets.

"Works in a bar?" He frowned. "Hey, I think I know this place. Couple of blocks down from Seventh Heaven. Newly opened, right?"

"Yes."

Reno put the file down on the table, carefully avoiding the coffee stain.

"So what, ya want him dead?"

Tseng's lip twitched slightly, as it always did when he was forcing himself not to smile.

"No. We want you to watch him."

"Watch him? What for? Seems to me ya got all the info ya need on him right there."

Tseng leant against the desk, folding his arms as he did so.

"We think he has potential."

Reno looked at the older man, raising an eyebrow deftly.

"Ya gotta be kiddin' me. Ya want me to scope _him_ for the Turks?" Tseng nodded again. "Nah, nah, boss man. Trust me on this. He ain't Turk material. Couldn't cut it."

"Why not? Because he's from the slums?"

Reno stared at Tseng, trying to decide if his tone was supposed to have sounded teasing. Cold, flat eyes easily met his gaze. It seemed that humour had been the last thing on the Turks mind.

"He just… he's a nice guy, OK? He wouldn't be able to do it."

"What part of it?"

"All of it, boss man. He couldn't do… what has to be done."

Tseng sighed again and moved back to his chair.

"Well, that is for you to decide. You will watch him for the next two weeks. Do not allow yourself to be seen. Do not let him know you are following him. I expect you to prepare a full report with all the evidence you have gathered. And Reno," he glanced back up at the redhead, now leaning on his desk. "I want it to be fair."

Reno growled, deep in his throat and folded his arms. He knew it made him look childish, but old habits did die hard.

"You have your assignment. Go."

He was out of the door before Tseng finished speaking.


	4. Thinking

Reno glared across the street at the newly opened _Green Light _bar. He was cold, he was tired, and he had run out of coffee.

Of all the types of missions he was given, the ones he hated most were reconnaissance. It wasn't that he had difficulty following them, or that he particularly _minded_ having to shelve sleep in favour of not letting the subject out of his sight even for a moment. What he _did_ mind was that it left him with time to think.

Erik Dorrigan was, for want of a better word, dull. Reno had been following him for just over four days now, and every day had been exactly the same. The man was like clockwork. He slept in till ten and would wake, without any sort of alarm, and would have a shower. Then, he would make himself what looked like a pot of tea and would look over sheets of papers, which looked like utility bills. Living above the bar, he would wander downstairs at twelve to open for lunch. There was a small selection of regular customers, maybe five. Then, the bar would close at two until nine o'clock. From there, it would be open until nearly three am. Then, Dorrigan would close up and go to bed.

There was a lot of time-spent waiting. Waiting for Dorrigan to open so he could keep a closer eye on him without appearing suspicious. Waiting for Dorrigan to crawl wearily into bed so Reno could at least relax a little.

On her first reconnaissance mission, Elena had said that she felt invigorated; that the thrill of trying not to be seen had kept her awake for the entire mission. Tseng had looked at him, then, with his carefully blank face, but his eyes had been _smirking_.

Rufus had been coming out of Tseng's office as they stood there, congratulating the new Turk on the completion of her first real mission. He had given one of those curious half smiles that said he was pleased in his own, silent way. Reno had smiled back, from his position behind his desk, but Rufus had glanced at him cryptically and asked him to escort him back to his own office.

"What's wrong?"

Reno had done his best to appear completely innocent, as though he had no idea what Rufus was referring to. Rufus had just looked at him with his ice blue eyes as they stood together in the elevator and knew exactly what to say.

"Elena is a good Turk. But you understand that she will never measure up to either you or Tseng?"

That was one thing that Reno hated about the man. Rufus was a good few years younger than him, and always knew what had to be said, what had to be done. But it was also something that he admired in him; his ability to command, his ability to generate loyalty from a single word.

That was why they had come back, after all: his remaining Turks. After the events of Meteor, they had been under no obligation to return to Rufus. They could have disappeared into the throngs of life and never been seen again. But they had chosen to come back. They had chosen to continue to work for Shinra, for Rufus.

"Hey mister?"

He was startled out of his musings by the appearance of a small child next to him on the roof. The boy swung his legs over the edge and began to swing them about.

"What'cha doin' up here?"

Reno smiled at the familiar sound of the boys' accent.

"Nothin much. Just sittin'.'

It really was amazing just how much living in the Upper Levels had changed his own voice. He never really noticed it unless he came to the slums. All the way back to Midgar. From Healin. He sighed.

"What'sa point of jus' sittin' round up here, mister?"

Reno sighed again and turned to look at the kid. He was small, probably only about seven years old. He was smiling, just a little, and his eyes kept flickering down to the alley next to the bar.

Following his gaze, Reno saw the shadowed shapes of three more kids in the alley. They were crouching close to the floor and giggling. A fourth stood to one side, looking as though he had been forced to give up his favourite toy. His arms were crossed and he was staring at Reno pointedly, as though betrayed. Reno grinned.

_Ah, so it's a dare, is it?_ _Well, maybe I can use it somehow._

"Hey, yo. Ya know the guy who owns that place?"

The boy nodded.

"Tell me 'bout him."

The boy looked suspicious, and then smiled slowly.

"What's in it for me?"

Reno reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gil. The boys' eyes grew wide and he sat up straighter.

"What'cha wanna know?"


	5. Sneaking

**A.N. I'm sorry this chapter took so long! I have had **_**mega**_** bouts of writers block! But I forced my way through it and hopefully it turned out OK. Enjoy!**

When the _Green Light_ bar was closing in the early hours of the morning, Reno was seated on the roof of the building. He was smiling, despite the fact that the cold had sunk into his rain-spattered clothes, and had a small string bag slung over one shoulder.

The boy had been surprisingly helpful. He had known a lot about Erik Dorrigan and his life before the bar. He had been a bouncer at one of the local clubs before the plate fell. After that, it seemed the man had disappeared for the next two years. He moved out of the slums and had been travelling towards Costa del Sol when his caravan had been attacked. When no body or tracks had been found, he had been presumed dead.

He had returned to the slums as suddenly as he had left, breezing in one afternoon and making an instant foreclosure on the building. He had had it renovated and had opened less than a week later. Business had been good, but still Erik chose to stay in the small room above his bar.

After getting the information he needed, prompted every once in a while by the production of a few more gil. Reno kept one eye on the other boys in the alley, watching as the onlookers' eyes grew wider and wider while their friend's explanations became more and more enthusiastic. The older boy had continued to scowl across at them.

During their talk, it had occurred to Reno that someone else had been watching them, too. There had been a shadow in one of the windows of the bar that had turned invisible eyes towards them. He had felt the familiar prickle in the back of his neck, the ripple of instinct to get away from that unseen face.

By the time the boy had left, the eyes had turned away and the shadow had melted back into whatever obscure corner of the bar it had emerged from, but Reno hadn't lost the feeling that he was being watched.

Now, he was waiting.

Above the locked bar, he could see the light go on in Dorrigan's flat. The cream coloured wallpaper gave the room an odd, eerie luminescence from this angle: looking down on it. He heard the distant jingle as Dorrigan dropped his keys into the bowl by the door; heard the wardrobe squeak as it was opened. There was a bang, and Dorrigan cursed.

And then the light went out. The bed springs creaked and Dorrigan gave a contented sigh, muffled, presumably, by his considerable duvet.

Reno glanced at his watch: 03:30. It shouldn't take Dorrigan too long to fall asleep. To be safe, he waited for twenty minutes. And then he made his move.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the building, he could see the side window that lead into Dorrigan's small spare bedroom. He had been studying it while the bar was still open. It was old, still made of wood. At one point it appeared to have been bolted shut, but now the disintegrating wood had loosened the bolts.

Carefully, Reno lowered himself so that he was level with the window, keeping a tight hold with one hand on the roof. Some creative architect had made an arrangement of bricks on the side of the building. It was from the era when Shinra had first helped build some of the houses, nearly twenty years ago. The symbol had represented the fact that the house was secure as it was built by Shinra. He had to smile at the irony as it formed a good foothold for him.

With his free hand, he reached inside the pouch attached to his belt. Inside were a variety of items that he may or may not use. He liked to come prepared, particularly when, he expected, Tseng wouldn't be altogether pleased with this idea.

Reaching inside the pouch, he removed a long piece of metal that had been worked so that one end was crooked. It wasn't quite a crowbar, but it would do.

The flattened piece of metal slid, with a little resistance, under the frame.

Reno reached back into the pouch and pulled out a small black box. It fit neatly into the palm of his hand. It was cool and heavy like a stone. There was a small button on one side that began to glow at his touch. He slid his thumb over it in a circular motion and it began to whir, slowly. A moment later, the sound stopped and the little box lay silent and unmoving in his hand. He clipped it to his belt and turned back to the window.

Reno took a breath, closed his eyes and slowly let go of the roof. It was a peculiar feeling, to hang there, suspended, clinging onto the wall and pressing himself as close to it as he could. He felt the old panic build inside him and pushed it down. It was something he had never quite got used to, even in his thieving days: the exhilaration of the fear, of falling, of being seen, of being caught.

Clinging tightly with one hand, he pushed down slowly on the crowbar, listening closely for the distinct crack of braking wood. He managed to lift it only slightly before one of the rusted nails surrendered and the wood fractured around it.

Reno shrugged automatically, and had to catch onto the windowsill to keep his balance. A few stray splinters of window floated past him to the ground. They left a hole just large enough for him to put his hand through. He rolled up his sleeve as best he could and slid his arm in. The fractured wood scraped against his skin and, in some places, small pinpricks of blood began to appear. He ignored it. As a Turk, drawing a little blood was nothing out of the ordinary.

He worked his arm around to find the other nail. His fingers brushed against it and he struggled to try and pull it out. It stuck stubbornly in its frame. Some of the rust scraped off under his fingernail and he growled at it through the glass.

He strained against the wood but it held fast against him. The nail still refused to move.

Against his thigh, the little black box began to hum.

Cursing, he reached again for the nail, more desperately now. He grasped it and pulled, and the window groaned as he strained against it.

He could hear the echo of footsteps walking down the alley below him now. The box became more and more frantic in its vibrations as they got closer. Louder, louder, Reno guessed he only had a few minutes before the figure rounded the corner and saw him.

He started to pull his hand back, thinking to pull himself back onto the roof. The cuff of his sleeve caught on a splinter of the wood and stuck fast.

_Ah, shit. Tseng's gonna kill me._

The footsteps grew closer and closer.

_Wonder which he'll be more mad at; that I got caught, or that I'm not following orders? _

He could see a shadow now, thrown against the wall by a streetlight. Almost at the corner.

Reno pulled again at the sleeve. After all his tugging and jerking, the nail choose this moment to spin gently to the floor.

Grinning in triumph, he yanked the window open and fell inelegantly to the floor, as the figure turned the corner.

He lay completely still where he fell, waiting to see if anyone had heard him. The apartment was silently, the lights remained off and the footsteps melted back into the background as the figure walked away.

Gingerly, he picked himself up and brushed himself down. Luck, it seemed, was on his side tonight.

He crept to the door of the room and gently pushed it open. It swung easily and, to his relief, silently.

He wandered out into the central room that he had been observing for so long and found himself looking around with genuine interest. The room wasn't very comfortable, containing only the furniture that was absolutely necessary. A small armchair, completely worn out and the desk itself were the centre pieces. The desk was covered in papers, as usual, all for electricity and stock orders. He allowed himself a smile of triumph.

The one thing that unnerved him in the room was the wallpaper. From across the street, interspersed with lines of black. Now he was in the room, however, he could see that the black lines were actually little birds with holding each others wings and dancing in slow, stately circles. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

There were two doors in the room. Through one, he could hear Dorrigan's low snores. The other was flanked by a small shelf and a stool that seemed to serve as a coat stand.

On the shelf was a bowl containing two sets of keys. One set was attached to a keyring with the picture of a sunny beach. The words Costa del Sol were written in florid orange writing underneath the image, although the actual colour was fading fast. The other had the amusing image of a small chicken holding a beer glass and grinning maniacally.

Reaching into the bowl, he carefully pulled both sets of keys out of the bowl, trying not to disturb them too much.

The front door was already open when he turned to it. The handle turned easily and he found himself moving down a flight of stairs in the dark. He could see the outline of another door emerging in front of him and groped at it to find the hole. His grazed his finger on the handle and glared at it. The key hole was directly below it.

After a few moments of silent debate, he slid the chicken into his pocket and fumbled again for the hole, armed with the Costa del Sol ring. The first key grated against the hole. He took it out and tried another. And another. And another.

There were two keys left on the ring: a small intricate silver one and a rusted bronze affair with a crack running along one side. He tried the silver one.

It slid in easily and turned with a gentle click as the lock opened. The metal of the handle was cool against his skin as he pushed the door open and walked out into the bar.

The room was dark and eerily quiet. A handful of small pin lights illuminated the back of the bar with a sickly green light. A small collection of wine bottles and rare bottle tops had been arranged around the room. Surrealist paintings lined the walls. A photograph of a young woman was attached to the till with a loosening piece of cellotape.

"Aw hell, Tseng. What do we need this guy for? Just another guy who thinks he's got it good."

In his discussions with that boy, only a few hours before, he had mentioned something that had caught Reno's interest. It seemed that Dorrigan, aside from being possibly the most boring individual he had ever had the misfortune to tail, was also a philanthropist. He provided financial aid when one of the street rats got into trouble, whether that was for bail, medical care, or even to satisfy one of the local gangs.

No one seemed to know where he got the money. 'Like magic,' the boy had said.

Once, when he was still very young, Reno's brother had taken him to see one of the street 'magicians.' They usually avoided the slums, but any money was better than none at all. The problem with going to the slums was that no one was interested in the magic. Everyone knew they used materia, usually stolen from Shinra.

But Feyn had never noticed. Feyn had always believed. He immersed himself in the illusion, staring wide eyed like a child at even the simplest tricks. The performers loved him. In him, they found a willing volunteer, a friend in the crowd.

They took advantage of his naivety, of his willingness to believe. Feyn had absorbed so much of their act, their performance, that he trusted them completely. He thought that when the man began to run as fast as he could, it was just a part of the magic.

Feyn's death had a strange effect on Reno. Of course, he missed his brother, but soon he seemed to be expected to fill the gap the older boy had left. Suddenly he wasn't good enough. He wasn't as optimistic as Feyn. Why couldn't he try and find a solution to his problems, the way Feyn used to? Why couldn't he help with the rent the way Feyn used to?

If they had wanted an answer, he could have given one to all of their questions. In fact, he had, and had been punished for his troubles. Long silence was the capital punishment, and in the months after his brothers' death Reno found it a semi-permanent feature in his life.

Then he had left home and joined one of the slum gangs. And then Tseng had found him, rescued him. Better not to think about that.

He glanced around the room and smiled as a red velvet curtain behind the bar caught his eye.

"Ah. Wonder what we have here?"

Moving the curtain aside, he saw that it sheltered a small door. Locked of course.

He found that he was still holding the keys in his hand. Having exhausted the use of one, he separated the rusted key and pushed it gently into the keyhole. It turned with a groan of protest until he heard a familiar, _click_ as the bolt drew back.

Smirking in triumph, he pulled the key back out of the lock. There was a small inscription on the side, a brand name he presumed. 'Magic' it said.

He scowled.

"Ain't no such thing as magic."

Casting the key another disgusted look as he thrust it into his pocket, he swung the door open.


	6. Struggling

The door opened onto a staircase that descended down beneath the bar. Stone stairs disappeared down into darkness. A strange smell wafted up from the depths of the falling corridor and Reno scrunched his nose in disgust.

As he got further from the dim lights of the bar, it became more and more difficult to see. About half way down, he remembered the torch he had stashed in the pouch at his waist. The batteries were old and only just worked. It was enough to get him to the bottom of the stairs.

The dim light illuminated a little of the room he now found himself in. The low ceiling just about permitted him to stand straight. He suspected that Dorrigan, several inches taller than him, would have had to stoop.

There seemed to be very little of interest in the room. There was a small desk shoved up against the wall, almost identical to the one in Dorrigan's apartment. A stack of filing cabinets stood dolefully in one corner. Each draw was labelled but in the dying light he couldn't quite read them from where he stood.

Swinging the torch round, the light revealed a switch on the wall beside him. The casing had been covered in a layer of dust and grime that had fallen from the floor above. An earwig hung of a loosened screw, frozen by the torchlight. The switch itself appeared to have been used recently. It was clean and mostly free from the swirling dust.

Sighing, Reno turned the torch away. He heard a faint _thwap_ as the earwig landed on the floor and scuttled away. His hand reached out for the switch and flicked it, sending the room into a sudden luminescence.

Shadows darted and danced across the floor and disappeared into a series of cracks in the wall. The single bulb on the ceiling began to hum.

Allowing himself a glance at the empty desk, he made his way across to the filing cabinets. There were five drawers. Two of the drawers had been labelled, with the words 'General' and 'Sort.' The other three drawers had been left blank.

Reno regarded them carefully for a moment.

_Well, _he thought, _it's worth a try._

He pulled on the draw marked 'General.' As expected, nothing happened. A keyhole laughed at him from the corner of the box. He glared at it.

"Damn thing."

He gave the cabinet a childish kick. It clanged unpleasantly and he instantly regretted it. He froze and waited.

Nothing.

Sighing in relief, he turned his attention back to the cabinet. The fifth draw was hanging slightly open, dislodged by his violent treatment. Reno bent towards it, reaching out a hand to open it.

And then the light went out.

The bulb popped above him and a shower of tinkling glass fell over his head. He felt a dozen tiny scratches appear across his cheeks.

There was still some light coming down the stairs from the bar above. It was faint, but strong enough for him to see the swirl of dust coming down the stairs. Something had disturbed it. He froze and waited. The black box at his hip buzzed once and then was silent.

Reno's eyes flicked automatically left and right. In the corner of the room, a sudden shaft of light caught his eye. He sprang lightly backwards, colliding with the wall. He heard the ring of metal as the sword sliced through the air. It swung out again and he grabbed at it, miscalculated and grabbed the blade. It bit deep into his hand but he held fast. His other hand lunged for the hilt as his opponent pulled back.

The attacker fell back, loosing his grip on the weapon with the unexpected resistant. There was a soft 'huff', as though he was winded.

Reno twisted the sword around so that it no longer pointed at himself and then his hands grew suddenly light. The other man was back on his feet and had knocked the weapon out of his hands. He heard it clang as it landed by the stairs, illuminated by the faint light from the bar.

A long arm reached towards him and he dodged backwards, finding himself back against the wall.

Above them, the door to the bar slammed shut.

The other man gave a short, triumphant laugh and Reno lashed out towards him. His fist collided with something hard. It snapped and the man yelped. His breathing was heavy and loud in the darkness. And then… it was gone.

The sudden silence surprised Reno and he froze. He tried to listen for some sound that would allow him to locate his opponent. No footfalls, no sounds of breath. Nothing.

On instinct he reached for his EMR. His hand wrapped around it as the stick was harshly pulled away. It jerked out of his hand and away. He reached after it, yanking his arm back as he felt the tingle of energy running up his arm. It was still on a faint setting he noted.

The rod connected with his stomach with a sickening _thump_. He gasped and doubled over, winded, as the butt of the rod came down on his head and he fell to the floor.


	7. Convincing

**A.N. I would like to apologise for the disgraceful amount of time it has taken me to upload this. I'm Very Sorry! Please review anyway!**

Reno found himself fading back into consciousness to the sound of a familiar, regular beeping. The smell of disinfectant swirled around him. He winced.

"Finally awake I see."

He forced his eyes open and blinked in the sudden glare of light.

"Ah, crap." He lifted one hand to cover his eyes. "Why can't they paint the place black or somethin'?"

His voice felt rough and scratchy.

Beside him, he heard someone laugh.

Glancing around, he saw Rufus positioned beside his bed in the wheelchair. The geostigma was gone but his body was still weak. The white robe that he used to hide his face in was folded neatly across his lap. Slightly behind the President, Tseng was standing by the wall. Since the incident with Kadaj and his gang, the Director had developed the habit of almost leaning against things. He seemed to gravitate towards the supports but never quite touched it.

Reno pulled himself up into a sitting position, with some difficulty, rubbing his eyes.

"What in hell happened?"

There was a flicker of movement on Tseng's face. Reno couldn't be sure, but he thought it was a smile.

"Erik Dorrigan happened."

Rufus folded his hands across his lap and watched as the redheads eyes darted between himself and the silent man behind him. He allowed himself a smile as recollection began to form on the other mans face.

"Aw man, the mission. About that-"

"Actually, Reno," Tseng broke in, "you did exactly what I expected you to."

"-And I just thought that… Wait, what?"

Tseng moved forwards, walking fluidly around to the other side of the bed, standing opposite Rufus.

"I must admit, you had far more self control than I thought." For a moment, Tseng wavered, as though unsure whether he should continue to stand or sit on the bed. He remained standing. "Reno, you are many things: cocky, arrogant, reckless, untidy and often insubordinate."

Reno winced under Tseng's speech and turned his eyes slightly downwards. Rufus smiled. He looked like a scolded puppy. Not that Rufus had ever spent much time with a puppy. Not at all.

"But you are also the sneakiest person I know."

There was a pause, as Reno's brain processed the last few words. Cautiously, he raised his head to look at Tseng again. He looked surprised.

"So what, you were counting on me to go in there and… get caught?"

Rufus sighed. Never let it be said that the redhead wasn't as smart as he wanted to be.

"You have a gift, Reno: the ability to blend in even with your loud personality. Even your hair stands out from the norm, but it still took Rude and Tseng nearly a fortnight to track you down."

Out of the corner of his eye, Rufus caught Tseng's scowl. Reno was grinning.

"I guess so. Just too good."

Tseng's scowl deepened.

"Now," Rufus folded his hands in his lap, "I admit, he's a little rough around the edges, but he, like you, has a gift. A gift we can use. And we need everything we can get right now."

"And even untrained, he does a thorough job."

Reno looked back to Tseng, who was holding out a mirror. His face was impassive, but his eyes were glittering with an unusual kind of mischief.

Cautiously, Reno took the mirror and glanced at his reflection. His pale skin was a stark contrast to the dark, mottled bruises on his cheeks and along the line of his jaw. Red, scabbed slices covered his face, the worst above his left eye. The red tattoos seemed almost unnoticeable.

Beneath his hand a piece of paper crackled.

"Looking gorgeous, Red. Elena."

He rolled his eyes.

"We thought it would be better for you to see yourself before they used the materia." Now Tseng was smirking as he spoke. "It certainly is an impressive look."

Reno glared at him.

"Well then, it seems that you are both convinced of Mr. Dorrigan's competence. Tseng, invite him up to my office later, would you?"

He turned the wheelchair towards the door and, casting a quick wave of goodbye over his shoulder, left the room.

Tseng lingered a few moments longer.

"The nurse tells me you should be released soon. You can spend the rest of the day forming your report. I expect you to be prompt tomorrow morning: I will have another task for you. Leave the paperwork on my desk."

He turned and began to follow Rufus through the door, then paused, half turning back to look at the redhead. For the second time that day, he seemed uncertain.

"Reno."

"Yeah?"

Tseng hesitated and then exhaled sharply.

"Don't worry about collecting your things. They'll be waiting on your desk."

And then he was gone.


	8. Talking

**A.N. First of all, I owe an apology to everyone who has been following this story for its disgraceful lateness. I am SO SORRY! I will try to get the next chapter up in the next ten days. **

Dorrigan walked out of Tseng's office sporting a somewhat stunned expression on his face. His new, immaculate suit, courtesy of the company, had a stiff, over-ironed look and the new, black tie had a strange blue shimmer to it. It kept flashing in Reno's eye as he walked around the room.

Tseng stalked out behind him, moving to stand behind the spare desk that had been moved into the joint office only the day before.

Dorrigan shifted awkwardly where he stood, half watching Tseng, half staring in awe around the spacious room. The Director looked pointedly from Dorrigan to the desk and the man, stupidly, followed his gaze. Reno rolled his eyes.

"He wants ya sat down and listenin' before he'll speak, yo."

Dorrigan turned large brown eyes to look at him, clearly out of his depth in the up-class building. Reno watched the realisation dawn in his eyes as he turned to fumble awkwardly with the chair.

Elena moved into position beside him and nudged him gently in the ribs.

"_That_'s what gave you all those bruises? Really, Reno. That's just careless."

He glared at her and she snickered.

"By now, you will no doubt be aware of our newest member. Mr Dorrigan will be joining you on missions and any of your subsequent duties, but he is still in training. You will be expected to ensure his safe return on any missions he may accompany you on."

Reno grimaced.

"So what, ya want us to baby-sit the guy? Come on, Boss. We got better things ta do!"

Tseng turned his grey eyes towards him and Reno felt the words die back. He never could think of anything to say back to that glare.

"We do not have the time to put him through the same rigorous training that you went through, so he'll have to learn on the job. Show him the ropes and make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

Dorrigan laughed, nervously. He stopped when he realised that no one else was so much as smiling. His hand rose awkwardly to rub the back of his neck as Reno glared at him around Tseng's body.

Tseng passed a glance between the two, one eyebrow raised.

"Dorrigan, this afternoon you will be guarding President Shinra in his duties." There was an outcry from Elena and Reno.

"But Sir, it took me almost a year to get that honour –"

"Come on, Boss man. Ya can't seriously be given him _that_ job!"

Tseng stared them into silence until Rude coughed, clearing his throat.

"Tseng, he is new, and unchecked. Would it not be more prudent to have him out in the field first?"

Tseng turned, stiff backed, cat-like. He nodded.

"Perhaps it would. But these are the President's orders."

"The hell man -!"

"Be quiet, Reno! You will be accompanying him."

"Like hell I am!"

Tseng pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. A shudder racked his body, as though he were trying to contain himself from physical injuring his subordinate.

When he spoke, his voice was a threatening whisper, tinged with his famously controlled temper.

"Reno. These are the President's orders. Decide not to obey and I will have you on cleaning duties for a month. Do you understand?"

Reno said nothing. Tseng's 'cleaning duties' were a rare punishment, and could consist of anything from latrine duty to fixing a helicopter. Reno was the only Turk to ever receive this punishment more than once. He was also the only one that had ever managed to fix the helicopter in the allotted time. He had flown it up to the President's office and had hovered outside, waving to Tseng while he was on guard duty. Tseng had not been best pleased.

"Good." Tseng relaxed slightly, picking up a stack of papers on the desk. "You have ten minutes to report to the President's Office."He had


	9. Guarding

Reno fumed silently on their lift ride up to Rufus' office. It was bad enough that he was having to share an office with Dorrigan, but to put him on baby-sitting duties? He filed the issue under 'things-to-get-Tseng-back-for-later.'

Dorrigan, meanwhile, was standing stiffly on the other side of the elevator, looking distinctly uncomfortable in his starched clothes. Reno imagined part of the problem was also the idea of meeting the President himself. Despite the whole Sephiroth, meteor, reactor thing, Rufus was still incredibly influential.

Reno felt a shred of pity and sighed.

"Look, just follow the rules and you'll be fine. Pres probably won't even talk to ya. Don't address him, don't introduce yourself, and do not under any circumstances peer over his shoulder at what he's working on. He hates that."

Dorrigan nodded, shooting him a small smile.

"Hey, Reno, right? I was jus' thinkin'... No hard feelings, ya? For the break in, as-in."

Reno glared at him.

"One more rule: don't talk to me, either."

They spent the first hour in an uneasy silence, standing on either side of the room. Reno's eyes wandered over the walls; scanned the window, the door, the space under the desk, that corner with the potted plant. Dorrigan kept his eyes straight ahead, at a point just above Reno's head. Rufus ignored them both, keeping his head down and carrying on with his work as though they weren't there.

The room was deathly quiet. The air prickled between them. It was a strange sensation for Reno, being uncomfortable in the president's office. His 'guard duty' had begun to consist more and more of lying full length on Rufus' couch, talking about anything he felt like, anything that bothered him, and, more recently, anything that _didn't_ bother him. Rufus' office had become a place he could let go without having to worry that Tseng would stroll in and accuse him of being lazy, or hand him an armful of paperwork.

Once or twice, he had even caught Rufus smiling at what he was saying. When he knew he was doing it, of course, the expression was firmly quashed. The younger man never contributed to the conversation, but Reno didn't mind. Letting him talk was almost as good.

But now, Dorrigan had invaded that easy camaraderie. He had invaded Reno's life and was threatening him, even now, with his hands in his pockets and the sweat running off his temple.

The most annoying part, though, was that Reno couldn't have told you exactly what it was that he hated about the man. Yes, he had defeated him, but then Tseng and Rude did that all the time. It wasn't that the man was better looking – _no one_ was better looking than him, although Dorrigan had a charm, he supposed.

It was _everything_. It was the way his fingers twitched whenever Rufus picked up his pen; the way his eyes never quite focused on you; the way he half smiled; the fact that he was taller than Reno. It was his voice, the oh-so-familiar accent of the slums. It was the way he stood, half tensed for flight, and wary of everyone who came near enough to snatch his wallet, the way his tie hung perfectly straight, the way his shirt was creaseless.

It was _every little thing_ and Reno hated him for it.

But there was something else, hidden beneath the bumbling fool who couldn't keep his hands still. There was an awareness that only a Turk should possess. He should know, he had it himself. Honed by both his childhood and by Tseng, he liked to think of himself as somewhat gifted with instinct.

Every fibre of his body wanted this man dead.


	10. Overpowering

**A.N. My thanks to all those who have reviewed and faourited so far. I hope you like this next instalment, and I hope you're all proud that I managed to get it up without too much time passing. **

**Enjoy!**

_Darkness. Silence. _

_Perhaps they were kind: perhaps now they would let him die. _

_No. The voice was back. The voice from above, around, inside him. It put a metal ring around his neck. It squeezed him, choked him, without lifting a finger. The hated voice._

"_Now, Reno. Let's see how you dance."_

Over the next few weeks, Dorrigan was given more and more guard rotas. After his third job, he was deemed competent enough to watch the president on his own. Gradually, the other Turks were called on less and less often to watch over Rufus. Instead, they picked up the other jobs, the other end of the paperwork.

They were continually sent out on small errands; picking reports and information up from the WRO, checking in with Strife and the others at Seventh Heaven to make sure that nothing had gone wrong, doing routine checks of the reactors, making sure that nothing had mutated in the radioactive backwater districts.

Reno found himself, one evening, approached by a child sucking his thumb and holding a teddy. It regarded him with reproachful eyes, and then began to cry. He had taken the child back towards the market place, dragging it along by a sticky hand. The child's mother had scolded it, grabbed the collar of its shirt, and walked away without as much as a backwards glance.

When he reached his desk, there had been a memo waiting for him. It was a rota change, stating that he was on Presidential watch for the afternoon. Cursing his luck, he had sprinted up to the President's Office, only to find that he was no longer needed.

"Sorry, Reno. I hadn't realised that you were supposed to be on duty. But seeing as no one appeared to be coming, I took over myself." Dorrigan was smiling, confidently, from behind Rufus' chair. "I may as well stay, now that I'm here. You don't mind, do you?"

* * *

><p>"Does anyone else think that this is gettin' kinda weird?"<p>

Reno was lounging on one of the sofas beside the coffee machine in Tseng's office. Elena had positioned herself delicately on the chair in front of Tseng's desk and Rude perched gingerly on the arm of Reno's sofa, shifting to avoid his twitching legs.

"What's weird?"

Tseng was sitting bolt upright in his chair, cradling a cup of steaming tea in his hand and staring intently at his subordinate.

"Well, Dorrigan."

"What about him?"

Reno sat up, swinging his legs around and catching Rude's thigh. He glared at his partner before sliding down onto the seat.

"What about him? Why the hell has he been trusted with watchin' Rufus this whole time when we've been doin' all the shit jobs? He's not even a full Turk yet, yo!"

Tseng sighed and took a drink from his cup.

"He has a point," Elena added, nodding decisively. "I mean, it took me months to get on my _first_ guard duty. Does Rufus just like him better than us?"

Tseng turned his stony eyes on her.

"The _President _feels that we are better suited to getting things done. He feels that as Dorrigan is," Tseng glared at Reno, "'not a full Turk yet,' he cannot be trusted with the everyday business of the company."

"The hell, yo! 'Cannot be trusted'? Yeah, right! More like he can't trust _us_!"

"Reno –"

"Come _on_, Sir, can't ya see there's something wrong with this picture?"

Tseng's hand flexed against the table top, but before he could answer, the door swung open to reveal Dorrigan adjusting his tie.

"Sorry I'm late. The President wanted me to stay longer than my original shift."

There was an awkward silence as he slid into the room.

He had a new tie on, in company colours. Reno _hated _it. He shifted back against the sofa, folding his arms and glaring.

Tseng ignored him.

"Take a seat, Dorrigan. We were just discussing your current mission status." Dorrigan, much to Reno's disgust, pulled a chair up to Tseng's desk and sat down. "We feel that you are ready to go on a real mission now."

Tseng paused, waiting for a response. None came. He seemed pleased.

"We have been requested to remove certain rebel individuals who have been causing significant problems to Shinra's re-branding in the eyes of the public." He passed Dorrigan a file with the words 'confidential' stamped in large red letters on the front. "It is the President' s wish that you remove them in a way that cannot be traced back to the company."

"That means ya can't use company property ta kill the target, yo."

Tseng hesitated long enough to glare at the redhead, who took no notice, choosing instead to continue his staring contest with the side of Dorrigan's head.

Dorrigan was reading the file intently, brow creased in concentration.

"Doesn't seem too difficult. Will I have a contact?"

Reno blinked in surprise. He started to grin. Tseng _hated_ that question.

"No. But as it is your first real mission, we think that I should guide you through it."

Elena sat up in her seat, mouth hanging slightly open, glancing from Tseng to Dorrigan and back again.

"But sir, that's not fair! This is a routine hit. On our first missions –"

"The situation is not the same, Elena."

Elena shut her mouth, still obviously unsettled and glanced nervously at Reno. His gaze was fixed on Dorrigan's every move. His fingers, curled into fists and pressed against his thigh, were twitching in barely repressed anger.

Even Rude had tensed beside him, dark eyebrows raised questioningly at Tseng. One of his big hands landed squarely on Reno's shoulder, preventing his friend from leaping at their newest colleague.

Reno could feel their eyes on him, could feel the anger coiling like a spring inside him. He could feel Tseng's dark eyes too, the grey orbs watching him with interest.

With a great deal of self-control, he pushed Rude's hand away, rose to his feet, turned, and walked past Dorrigan and out of the door.


	11. Waiting

**A.N. This is a bit of a strange chapter, but here it is. And not too overdue either! **

Dorrigan left on his mission the next day, strolling out the door of the Shinra building with his head held high and one hand resting on his newly issued gun, attached to his belt.

Reno watched him go from the office window, a mug of coffee clutched in one hand and the other gripping the back of his chair.

"Think he'll make it back?"

Elena moved to stand next to him, watching the confident swagger of their colleague disappearing around the corner.

"How can he not with the boss watchin' his ass?"

Right on cue, Tseng stepped out onto the sidewalk, raising a hand to shade his eyes from the sun. He glanced around and walked purposely away, merging with the crowd and vanishing.

Elena sighed.

"Well, I guess it is fair that he have some back up. He hasn't been trained like we have. We don't know how he'll cope."

"You sayin' you just think it's like an assessment?"

She shrugged.

"Maybe. I mean, we've all had them, right?"

She gave him a lopsided smile and walked back to her desk.

"Assessment my ass."

* * *

><p>Rude sat quietly in his corner of the room, bent over a small mountain of paperwork. With Tseng out watching Dorrigan, he had taken over the brunt of the deskwork.<p>

Behind his glasses, he watched his partner standing by the window. Reno was leaning against the desk, glaring out over the city, his arms folded against his chest. He seemed oblivious to the world around him, ignoring any work put down for him. His eyes scanned the streets ceaselessly.

Usually, when Tseng was out on a mission, Reno would take off his jacket and hang it over the back of Tseng's door. He would have been bemoaning fate that he was stuck in the office while Tseng 'had all the fun.' Sometimes, depending on how strenuous the mission was expected to be, Reno would plan a 'surprise' for the Director and leave it in his office. It was usually, and rather unimaginatively, a bucket of cold water placed over the door. Tseng's litheness was always something that Rude had admired, but his ability to dodge Reno's 'surprises' was beyond impressive.

Elena brought Reno a cup of coffee, still steaming. She put it on the desk behind him when he made no move to take it. Rude could see her lips moving, asking Reno if he was alright. He half-shrugged in reply, not taking his eyes from the window.

"Do you think he's OK?"

Elena was clutching her own mug, watching Reno with some concern.

Rude shrugged.

"He doesn't like Dorrigan."

"Understandable, I guess. I mean the guy did beat him up some, and tarnish his reputation a bit, and he is a newbie, but..." She glanced across at Rude's unreadable face and frowned. "You think it's something else?"

Rude shifted back in his chair, folding his arms.

"He doesn't trust Dorrigan."

"But why? OK, so the guy's a bit arrogant. And he has been on watch a lot, but he doesn't seem so bad. What do you think?"

He paused, considering his words before answering.

"Whatever Reno thinks is going on, he thinks its bad. Look at that." He gestured over to his partner. "That's what he looks like on missions. The serious ones. He gets these feelings, sometimes. Intuition, I suppose. He's not usually far off the mark."

Rude looked up at Elena, through his shades.

"He and Dorrigan are two of a kind: natural Turks. Natural Turks from the Slums. Reno knows how he thinks. Or at least, how _Reno_ thinks. That's why he doesn't trust him."


	12. Filing

**A.N. Again, my apologies for the long wait. Things at school are now starting to calm down a little so hopefully I will have more time to write. **

**Enjoy! And please Review!**

It was two days before Tseng returned, strolling casually into the office and declaring Reno's desk unsuitable for work. Reno sulked, refusing to clear his desk and pouting childishly with his arms folded across his chest for almost an hour, preferring to engage in a staring contest with Tseng, who was leaning on Rude's desk and scowling.

Eventually, Tseng sighed, rolled his eyes and went into his office. They heard the scrape of his chair against the floor and then silence. Reno tensed, head cocked slightly to one side.

There was an almighty crash from within Tseng's office and the door burst open to reveal the Director, covered in blue paint.

Reno leapt numbly over his desk, grinning like a cat, and was out of the door before Tseng had a chance to speak. They disappeared down the corridor in a blur of blue and red.

Rude, who had watched the entire incident from behind the cover of his sunglasses, allowed himself a brief spasm of laughter at his comrades expense, before shifting Reno's work onto his own pile and settling down to work.

As punishment for his prank, Tseng sent Reno down to the old file stores to do some reorganising. It was a job that Reno had always despised, but he went down to the old record room without further complaint. He supposed it was worth it – the look on Tseng's face had been utterly priceless.

It was nearly three years since Reno had last been in the Record Room. It was in the process of being moved, and empty boxes were stacked in every spare space. In one corner, pressed tightly against the wall, was a desk with a small lamp and chair. Once, before Meteorfall and Sephiroth, there had been a spindly old man who had sat there, guarding the ancient files. He had been going blind, and scowled almost constantly.

Now, the desk and chair were empty.

Reno danced through the debris of half packed and empty boxes and deposited himself heavily in the chair and wondered where to start.

He had been there for almost four hours when he finally tripped over one of the boxes. It sat innocuously in the middle of the floor, laughing at him as he landed hard on his back.

"Ah, shit!"

The files in his arms crashed down beside him and scattered themselves across the floor. He had only just finished sorting them.

He glared at the box. Somewhere in his head, Tseng's voice was laughing.

"Fine, ya wanna be like that. Stupid box."

Moving over to it, he gave the cardboard a kick, out of petulance. To his surprise, it burst open, the flaps of the lid releasing a puff of dust that coated him with grey powder.

Scowling, he brushed it away, occasionally coughing, and leant over the box. A piece of paper sat on top of the files. It read 'For Scrap.'

"Scrap? That?"

He glanced around the room at the piles and mounds of boxes containing reports on the weather, a handful of designs for a sweet brand that was never bought, and records of email exchanges nearly ten years old. He had even found a stack of papers recording a discussion on whether the Training Rooms should include accurately simulated soil conditions.

As far as he could see, they had thrown nothing else away.

Reaching in, he pulled out the first file. 'Dr E. Stark: Request for Project Permission,' it said. Inside was a proposed science project on living tissue and its reaction on exposure to intense and focussed Mako blasts. It went on to list some of the successful experiments that had been performed along a similar line of thinking.

Flicking through, Reno stopped on the back page. It gave a list of the members of the science department that would be needed for the project. The list consisted of only two people: Dr E. Stark and Miss S. Lenn.

Reno frowned. He remembered Serah Lenn. She was young, pretty, and an infiltrator. Her file had appeared on his desk one morning, with a note from Tseng that she was to be removed swiftly and without disrupting or alerting the other members of her department.

The request had been signed twice in approval. The first signature, neat but with a characteristic flick of irritation, was President Shinra's. The second was a blur of faded scrawl. Someone had apparently spilt water across the form at some point as the pen had run across the page, but the word 'Hojo' was still just visible.

"Pretty confidential, huh? Wonder who you were..."

He flicked through the file once more, preparing to set it down again and start his filing again. He found a picture of Serah Lenn on one page, detailing her qualifications and experimental expertise. She was smiling, a little nervously, at the camera.

But it was the opposite page that caught Reno's attention. Stapled to one corner of the page, Dr. E. Stark stared out at him.

It was the face of Erik Dorrigan.


	13. Arguing

A.N. OK, so the next few chapters are for ViviMouse, who has permission to hit me over the head with Reno's EMR for posting this so slowly!

Next chapter will be up next week.

**Hope you enjoy! **

Reno wandered slowly back into the office and settled himself back into his chair a day early from his punishment. As much as he enjoyed pushing Tseng's temper, it wasn't usually a good idea to return before he gave express permission, but today he felt it was necessary.

In his pocket, the picture of Erik Dorrigan pressed a sharp corner against his heart.

On the other side of the room, Rude glanced up from his reports long enough to grunt a greeting to his partner.

"Better get started. Tseng left a pile for you, too."

_Must have been for tomorrow. Screw that._

"Like there's anything I actually have to write about," he paused and grinned before raising his voice until he was almost shouting. "'Cept maybe that huge spider I found down there."

As long as he got the work done, wrote out the reports before the deadline and didn't pull too many pranks, Tseng was relatively easy to work with. As the only, and longest serving Turks, he had allowed them a few more personal quirks. Reno's absent tie, for example, had not been mentioned at least two years.

There were still some things that irked the Director though, and Reno had made it his business to remember them. One of these things was speaking loud enough for Tseng to hear through his closed office door.

Rude looked up at him through his sunglasses and sighed.

"Wouldn't do that today. He's not in the best of moods."

"Oh _really_?"

The dark man shook his head as his partner leant forward in mock fascination. Reno was in one of his impossible moods. He turned back to his dwindling pile of paperwork and ignored the redhead.

"Aww come on, dude. I'm bored, yo!"

From inside Tseng's office, Rude heard a long suffering sigh.

"Reno, I'm serious. Not today."

His partner grinned and kicked his chair back, resting it against the window. He pulled a cigarette out of one pocket and then began searching theatrically for a lighter.

"Yo, Rude, ya got a light?"

He brought the chair back onto all four legs with a crash, making the plant pots on the window shake.

Rude heard a thud as something small collided with the back of Tseng's door.

"Reno..."

The redhead was rummaging through one of his draws, face pinched in concentration and running a constant stream of curses.

"There! Knew Ah'd left ya!"

"_Reno!"_

When all else failed, there was always the accent. Tseng coped with most of Reno's annoying habits with a soldier's strength, but the accent got him every time.

"Oops, looks like I'm in trouble."

He gave his partner a winning smile as he strolled into the Director's office, closing the door behind him. As he turned, a pencil crunched beneath his foot and he bent to pick it up.

"Pencil out of place, boss. Looks like ya need a new filing system."

Tseng had his arms folded in front of him on the desk, gaze fixed on his subordinate. One eye had started to twitch. He gestured, stiffly, for Reno to sit down, taking the snapped pencil out of his hand and dropping it roughly in a pot.

"Do you have an actual problem, Reno, or do you just enjoy being disruptive?"

"Actually, sir, I have a problem."

Tseng blinked. He stared at his second-in-command, looking for the tell-tale twitch as he tried not to smile. It wasn't there. Reno was being serious. He frowned.

"What is it?"

Reno reached into his pocket and pulled out the photo of Dorrigan.

"I found this in the filing room."

Tseng smoothed out the bent edges with long, deft fingers.

"A photo of Dr. Dorrigan. What about it?"

"They look the same."

Tseng tilted his head to one side. It was a movement he only made when he was having difficulty focusing on the cusp of a problem.

"Why should that surprise me? Dr Dorrigan was Erik's father."

"Yeah, whatever. Look, really _look_, boss! That's not a resemblance. They're _exactly_ the same!"

Tseng's other eye had started to twitch. Reno sighed.

"Look, boss. I know you don't agree, but I'm sure there's something up with that guy, and – "

Tseng waved him into silence, a sudden understanding crossing his face.

"I see where you're going with this. No. I understand it's just been the four of us for a long time and you're going to have to adjust to having someone new around, but the rest of us seem to be coping."

"But Tseng I'm telling you – "

"You did the same thing with Elena when she joined – "

"Tseng I swear – "

"Enough!"

Tseng slammed his hands on the table and half stood, hovering over his seated subordinate.

"Look, Reno, I don't know what you problem is with Dorrigan, but you need to stop this… _obsession_. He is a part of our family now. Learn to tolerate him or move your clutter permanently to the filing room!"

Suddenly realising his uncomfortable position he sat heavily back in his chair.

"Now, Reno, was there anything else?"

Reno considered him for a moment, as though trying to decide what to say. Then, his arm stiff, he reached forward and pulled the photograph back towards him.

"I guess not, _sir._"

Tseng's fingers twitched as he stared at the redhead, who coolly met his gaze across the tabletop.

The sudden tension between them was interrupted as the door was opened forcefully, startling them both.

Rufus was standing in the doorway, a file in one hand and a pen in the other. He was scowling at one of the papers in front of him, drawing his blonde eyebrows together in concentration, and didn't seem to have noticed either of the two men.

"Tseng, I think we need to go over the security arrangements for our meeting with the WRO again. Reeve says he'll allow us the cameras if we concede the – Oh, Reno."

He paused, just inside the door, and passed a quizzical glance between the two men.

"Reno, you are dismissed." Tseng was straightening his uniform a little, his fingers flickering against the table. "And if you have further issue, I assume they will be solved without incident, yes?"

Reno nodded glumly and left the office, taking a final glance at the pair before closing the door. Tseng stood very close against Rufus' side, reading the paper and frowning. But the corner of his lips were ever so slightly turned upwards in a smile.


	14. Checking In

**A.N. Again, apologies for the late update. I've had a mad month! **

**This is just one of Reno's bad days, really. **

**Hope you enjoy!**

Reno shook the snow out of his hair as he slid back into the Shinra building. It was being refurbished, ready for Rufus' return to the world. Reeve had taken on the project with glee, calling it his 'pet' and slyly fitting in an office for himself on the third floor, where the WRO would now be based.

Tseng had decided someone should be on site to oversee the work and ensure that everything was done according to the plans. And, he had added quietly, to make sure Reeve didn't get too carried away.

Looking up the familiar curving staircase, lined again with its familiar red carpet, Reno thought he might already be too late. Two Stone gargoyles were perched on either end of the reception desk, scowling at him as he approached.

"Can I help you?"

A woman with a clipboard emerged from a side door. She smiled brightly at him as she shuffled behind the desk.

"Err, yeah. I wanna see Reeve?"

"I'm afraid the Director is not here at the moment." She tried to look apologetic. "Would you care to leave a message?"

Reno sighed. Once, simply wearing the Turk uniform would have granted him instant access almost to anyone anywhere in the building. He felt like screaming at her, after the morning he'd had: up at an impossible hour, missing the train, having to make his way up from the slums, getting caught in an impromptu snowball fight and now this. He knew Tuesti was here. He was a Turk, after all. But Tseng had threatened him with filing duty for a year. No more scaring employees. _Damn_.

"Fine." He took his frustration out on his EMR, gripping the handle hard enough to feel the shape imprint on his hand. "Tell Reeve that Reno's here and that he wants to speak to him."

"Reno what?"

"Huh?"

"Your last name, Sir?"

"Don't worry about it; he'll know who I am."

She shook her head, putting her pen to one side.

"Sorry, Sir, I can't do that. Its company policy, you see."

"Company policy? _Who's_ company?"

"The company who own this building, Sir. If you have a problem with our policy, it would be wise to take it up with them. Until then," she tore the paper with his note in half and sent him a sickeningly sweet smile. "I'm afraid unknown members of the public are not allowed to leave messages."

He was getting a headache. It was building up in the back of his head, taking strength from the high pitch of her voice and the rivulets of melting snow running down his back.

He leant forward, leaning on the desk.

"Now look, Miss..."

"Farfield. Luce Farfield."

"Miss Farfield. If you don't let Reeve know I'm here, I assure you, you will regret it."

She blinked up at him, her eyes widening like a startled chocobo.

"Are you threatening me?"

Her hand was creeping underneath the desk, probably to the Security button.

_Don't scare the new employees! _Reno chose to ignore the voice in the back of his head. It sounded suspiciously like Tseng and, if the banging in his head was any indication, seemed to be tap-dancing somewhere in the cloud of his developing headache.

"Just give him the damn message and we won't have to find out."

He suspected that he had said the wrong thing when a man, appearing from a side door, grabbed both his shoulders. He was built like a fridge and looked down his long nose at the tensed redhead.

"If you'll accompany me, sir, I think we can sort this mess out."

The girl smiled brightly up at the newcomer. She was blushing, ever so slightly, and pushed a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes.

"Thank you Joss. Now, _sir,_ if you would accompany my colleague?"

Reno groaned. He really hadn't wanted any trouble.

"Let go of me."

The man started to turn him away from the desk.

"I'm warnin' ya, let me go."

The man smiled and nodded condescendingly

"Yes, sir. Of course."

He was walking, resolutely, towards the door, dragging Reno at his side.

"Fine. Have it your way."

After his years in the Turks, Reno had more than enough practise fighting against big, burly men like the guard. At one time, he had even managed to irritate the Shinra Army Captains and the Soldiers enough that they had worked together to get their revenge. It had all been going well for them – they had Reno pinned to a doorframe and, having not expected to actually catch the Turk, were debating heatedly what the next step of the plan was – when Rufus and Tseng had walked in on the proceedings.

Now, with the same technique he had used to unpin himself while Tseng had been throwing his pursuers out, he kicked back against the man's leg, twisting his knee, and twisted his arm so that his shoulder slid free of the punishing grip. Reno danced lightly backwards evading Joss' ungainly lunges and giving his knuckles several sharp raps for his troubles.

Joss snarled and launched himself at the redhead, throwing his considerable weight behind the dive and tackling the lighter man to the floor. Reno slithered out from under him but was yanked back down when the man grabbed a fistful of his hair.

Reno felt the last thread of his control snap and savagely kicked out at the man behind him, feeling his heel collide with something that crunched. Joss yelped and let go as Reno scrambled to his feet, reaching for the EMR at his waist.

"Reno! I wasn't expecting anyone to come by until Wednesday."

The redhead half turned to see Reeve smiling at him from the reception desk, collecting the clipboard from Miss Farfield.

"It… is Wednesday."

Reeve paused, seemingly working out the date in his head.

"So it is. What a mistake!" He smiled ironically and tapped the side of his head. "Get so lost up here some days, now that I'm running everything." He gestured expansively at the almost empty hall. "Everything's so busy, as you see."

Behind Reno, Joss had clambered to his feet, clutching his broken and bloody nose. He glared between Reeve and Reno for a few moments, before nodding respectfully to the Director and wobbling off through a side door, muttering profanities.

Miss Farfield, however, had been staring at Reno with something akin to awe on her pretty face, She had evidently expected him to be instantly overpowered by Joss and was now unsure how to treat him. Reeve caught her expression and laughed again.

"Goes to show, you should never judge a book by its cover. Eh, Luce?"

She nodded, slowly, in reply, and watched the two men as Reeve ushered the Turk up to the new elevators, clucking and chirruping about his projects and plans for the place.

"…And we've had to replace all the computers, of course. State of the art at the time. Amazing how technology changes, don't you think? Ah, here we are."

The elevator doors slid open to reveal Reeve's new office, which had once belonged to Lazard. A new table had been shifted into the middle, the WRO insignia emblazoned at its heart. Pictures, plans and maps lined the walls, from before and after meteor, and a few more recent ones, covered in Reeve's scribbled handwriting.

As Reeve tried to usher his guest through into his office space, he found himself colliding with Reno's back. The Turk was glaring at the chair behind the desk, where a man in an almost identical Turk uniform appeared to be trying out the spinning chair.

"Finally get here then? I thought you might've got lost, Reno."

The redhead's fingers curled into a fist.

"Dorrigan."


End file.
